IS:Infinite Suffering
by AllenFierte
Summary: How much does it take to break a person? In the end, not much. We humans are already walking on a dangerous tightrope, suspended over a chasm of madness. One wrong step, and you fall. Some cannot escape, and so they break. The madness takes them. Others have the strength to climb out of the pit; they are stronger for it.
1. Hurting is Living

How much does it take to break a person? In the end, not much. We humans are already walking on a dangerous tightrope, suspended over a chasm of madness. One wrong step, and you fall. Some cannot escape, and so they break. The madness takes them. Others have the strength to climb out of the pit; they are stronger for it. And some are rescued, pulled from the clutches of the darkness. Most are not so lucky.

But even those who are saved remain broken. Some wounds are too deep for time to heal, rather they only grow harsher. And yet, a few are pulled out of their broken shells, and reborn anew.

This is a story of one of of those possibilities. Of a young boy, dragged away in the dark of night, and torn apart by a few scared and angry men. Of a young boy, broken and scarred. Will he be broken? Will he be saved? Or will he save himself? I won't ruin the story by telling you which one he will turn out to be. That is for you to find out, if you choose. Or perhaps you are bored by now, and have already lost interest. If so, I apologize for that, and shall begin the story forthwith.

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ATTENTION: This story is rated M for Intense Violence, Blood and Gore, Use of Alcohol, Use of Drugs, Use of Tobacco, Suggestive Themes, and Incest.

If you are under the age of 17, I would recommend you find something else to read. Not that most people will pay any attention to that. I mean, what are guidelines for? That said, you have been warned. Also, if you don't like incest, don't read this fic. This is ChifuyuxIchika, and I am not using the "Oh, it's not by blood so it's fine" excuse. They are brother and sister. Period. This does not mean I endorse incest, as it is against the law. Also, it isn't harem. I don't care too much for harem. I mean, I'll read it or watch it, but just not write it. Not my style.

It hurt - that was the only thing running through the boy's mind. It hurt. He could feel his throat running dry from all of his screaming, though now he lay silent. He could hear the brittle crack of bone, as a blunt object descended again onto his right leg, snapping it like a toothpick. He could taste the coppery tang of blood running into his mouth, and onto his clothes. He could smell the putrid stench of burnt flesh drifting up from his left hand, scarred beyond repair by a burning iron rod. And he could see the drill bit descend towards his face, blood-stained, and terrifying. But to the boy, none of this truly mattered. All he cared about was that it hurt.

And so, he would put an end to it. The grinding of steel being rent apart was the only warning before the boy's already damaged left hand shot up, and grabbed the spinning drill bit. The drill tore into his flesh, mutilating it even more as it punched through his hand. The man, holding the drill, took a step back in astonishment at the action, and that was all the boy needed to stop the man, and by extension any more pain from hurting him. He couldn't take the pain. All the boy wanted was for it to not HURT.

His barely still functional right hand also pulled free from the table, and he wrenched the drill from the man. Turning it towards the man, he shoved it forwards, slamming the sharpened point into the man's skull. He had just killed a man, but the boy didn't care. After all, IT HURT!

The other men standing around the boy went for their guns, but the boy beat them to it. He grabbed a gun that had been carelessly placed next to him, and opened fire. The thunderous sound of gunfire erupted into the night, and he lowered the gun. Maybe by luck, maybe by chance, maybe even by some sort of divine intervention, but every one of his bullets flew true. In the back of his mind he registered the thump of five bodies hitting the floor, but it wasn't his concern. All he could think about was that IT HURT IT HURT IT HURT…

And now, he would end the pain. A shaky hand raised the gun to his head, and then lowered it. The clomp of combat boots on concrete reached his ears. Well, that was fine. He would just kill them first. Yes, that was a fine idea. Kill the people who had hurt him. Maybe that would make it stop hurting, because Oh God it HURT!

He was able to pull the shackle from his left leg, but the right one remained firmly locked. Well, what was a little bit more pain on top of all the rest? He lowered the drill to his leg, just under his knee, and pressed the trigger. The drill's engine whined, and the table he had been locked to was stained with blood. And it still hurt.

When the group of armed terrorists burst through the door, they found a pitch black room. Flipping on their flashlights, they were confronted by the still warm corpses of five of their comrades, and the bleeding leg of the boy, still clamped to the metal table. Sweeping their flashlight beams across the room, they looked around. A shout from one of the men resulted in the other six turning to look at what he had found. It was the door on the other side of the room. The hinges had been broken off, and the door swung haphazardly open. The men carefully exited the room. But while eight had entered, only seven left. The last one paused for little more than a second, and he met his end as a blood-stained drill cut through his throat. As he died, the man's last thoughts were about how. Much. It. Hurt.

On hearing the gurgling cries, the other seven men spun back around, and were met by the barrel of a gun. They had no chance to react. It flashed, and they died. The boy lowered the gun he had pulled from the man he had just killed, and stumbled backwards, yanking the drill out of the man's throat as he did so. He fell backwards onto the ground, and took in the corpses in front of him. Perhaps, had he still been in a normal frame of mind, the boy would have been disgusted by the fact that he had just ended twelve lives. Right now though, he didn't care that they were dead. A fleeting thought flickered into his mind. How stupid they were. As if he could have run away. He was missing a leg, and bleeding from so many places. All he had done was break down the other door and hide under a body. And they had missed him. And just as quickly, the thought was gone, replaced by the fact that the pain was still there, and that It HURT!

The boy tore a strip of one of the men's shirts off, and wrapped it around the bloody stump that was his right leg. He grabbed another one of the rifles, and used it as a sort of crutch to limp out of the door the men came from. The other stolen rifle he held pointed forwards, though it shook. After all, his left hand was still burnt to a crisp, and couldn't really hold the gun up, what with how much it hurt.

He stumbled down a corridor for what seemed like an eternity. It was a dull, concrete thing, and to the boy it seemed that for every step he took he left a part of himself in that bland hallway. It stripped away his joy, his sorrow, his hate, his love, his purpose, his very soul. By the time he finally came to a door, he was almost an empty shell, every cell in his body throbbing in pain. The only thing he had left were his memories of his sister, for that was the one thing he refused to forget, in spite of how much it hurt.

On the other side, he could hear voices, so he threw his body into the door and glanced around. All the people were wearing the same dull grey clothes that the men he had killed wore. So the boy squeezed the trigger.

The men had not expected an attack yet, and so were caught mostly unaware. They fell like wheat before a reaper's scythe, mercilessly cut down in a rain of lead. But, as all guns do, the boy's gun ran out of bullets. There had been twenty men in the room, and only five remained, but they were angry. They spun around, and took aim. The boy's head cracked back, and he fell to the ground clutching his face. As the world faded to black, thoughts turned to something strange, and he could have lept for joy. It no longer hurt! His blood pooled around him, but it didn't hurt! He could feel the throbbing of his mutilated leg, but it didn't hurt! The pain was gone! It no longer hurt!

Seconds later, the doors to the warehouse they were in burst open, and an armoured Hummer burst through. The machine gun mounted on the top spun into action, and tore the remaining terrorists apart, blasting their bodies into bloody chunks.

More terrorists began to run in from other rooms, but the turret simply turned towards them, and painted the walls with their guts. Within minutes, more and more vans roared into the area. Soldiers clad in black and grey army fatigues swarmed the room, sweeping it of threats. One of the soldiers found the boy's body, broken and scarred. He yelled for an ambulance, and within a minute the boy had been loaded onto a stretcher and was being rushed to the nearest hospital.

The boy's sister had arrived on the scene just as he was being loaded into the ambulance. She stayed by his side until he finally reached the operating room and she was asked to wait outside. It was a long wait. Each hour seemed to be an eternity to her. The only thing running through her mind were doubts and questions. Would he have been hurt if she had never taken place in the tournament? Was it her fault? What kind of sister was she, if she couldn't even take care of her own brother?

Hours later, she was finally shaken from her restless sleep by a doctor. He just looked sadly at her, and shook his head. "I'm sorry. We can't save your brother. He's still alive, but there's nothing more we can do for him. There was too much internal damage, and when combined with the shock from loss of blood he'll be dead within the next three hours. You can see him if you like. Again, I'm sorry."

With slow steps, she walked down the pale white hallway. She paused in front of the door, before finally working up the courage to go through. She stepped into the room, and gazed down at her brother's face.

A bandage wound its way across his face, binding his left eye beneath a length of gauze. More gauze entombed his right leg and left hand, and crisscrossed his chest, hiding the multitude of stitches that she knew covered his chest. As she stared down at his broken and dying form, regret filled her mind. Finally she decided. Pulling out her phone, she entered a number that she had never wanted to call.

"Save him." Her demand was simple.

"Hmm? I have no idea what you're on about." The voice that answered was unhurried, lackadaisical, and whimsical.

She gritted her teeth, and took a deep breath. "Do NOT! Play games with me. I am well aware that you know what's going on."

The other person just laughed. "Of course. I never could get anything past you, could I? Well, fine then. I can help you. It'll cost you though."

"Deal." For her, it wasn't even a consideration. After all…

"Your brother really means alot to you, doesn't he?" The voice was a whisper, right next to her ear. She flinched, and spun around. Her hand lept to the knife she kept hidden in her jacket sleeve. A sharp jab of pain sent her to the ground, clutching her arm in pain. A steel-toed boot crushed her into the floor. "Ah, ah, ah. None of that. Just as twitchy as always, Chi-chan."

"Tabane…" She glared up at the person standing on top of her. Tabane was an older teen, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old, and she was dressed in a blue and white dress that looked straight out of a fairy tale. "Just… Do what you need to do, then go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. And stop calling me that. My name is Chifuyu."

Tabane just smiled down at her. "So cruel, Chi-chan. Well, I can fix your brother's body, but his mind? That's another matter entirely. I can't make him whole again, not with everything he's gone through. But you already knew this. So tell me, is this for his sake, or yours?"

Tabane just kept peering down at Chifuyu. Chifuyu lowered her head, and looked away. "I can't lose him. Not now…"

Tabane just raised an eyebrow, before lifting her foot. "Well, that's your choice. Sure then, I'll put Ikkun back together. Let me see. He'll need a new hand. Oh, and a leg. An eye as well, and a new liver. Three ribs… Hmm…" She began muttering to herself, before her eyes widened in realization. "Right. Hold still, Chi-chan. Can't have you watching, you know?"

Tabane whipped out a syringe, and jabbed Chifuyu in the neck, before she even had a chance to protest. Even as her vision faded, she barely heard Tabane whisper something. "Well, it seems the drug worked." And then she knew only darkness.


	2. Eat, Sleep Thus is life

"Chifuyu! Wake up already!" A loud shout shook Chifuyu from her slumbers. With a groan, she pulled herself out of bed, and stepped into the bathroom, running a hand tiredly through her mess of long, black, hair. An hour later, she made her way into the room connected to her bedroom and was instantly hit by the rich smell of eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

Chifuyu blinked. In front of her, a plethora of food was arrayed on the small table. Three plates were laid out, side-by-side. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a flash of black and grey, and turned around. An teen of average height stepped past her, carrying a plate of piping hot pancakes. He was wearing a plain white shirt and white dress pants with gold-coloured detailing, and had a similarly designed jacket slung over his shoulder. He placed the plate on the table, and turned to face her.

"Good morning, Chifuyu-nee-san. I decided to make an extra large breakfast, seeing as it's the first day of school. I went with a Western-style today. Oh, Maya said she was going to stop by as well, so I made a vegetarian omelette for her. It should be the one at the end of the table."

Chifuyu shook her head and looked around at the, at least by Japanese standards, large breakfast. "Ichika, how long did you spend on this?" she asked.

"I've been awake since five-thirty, but I only started breakfast at seven, so…" Ichika glanced at the clock which hung over the small bookshelf to his left. "Since it's eight o'clock, I'd say an hour?"

"Ichika, you don't have to work so hard, you know? I can…" Chifuyu was interrupted by a finger placed on her lips. Ichika grabbed her shoulders and pushed her into a chair.

"What you can do is sit down in this chair and eat. Maya will be here soon, so just take this time to relax." He sat down in a chair next to her. "I worry about you sometimes, you know? You work so hard, so it's fine if I do something for you every now and then, right?"

He picked up a fork, speared a sausage, and moved it towards her mouth. "Say ahh." She looked at him. He looked back. She reached for her own fork. He moved it away. She reached for it again. He moved it even farther away. Finally she gave in with a sigh.

"Ahh." She Chifuyu leaned forward and took a bite. It was good, as expected. Ichika always did have a knack for cooking. There was a knock at the door and Ichika stood up.

"That would be Maya. I'll go get the door. Please keep eating," Ichika said. He walked out of the room and Chifuyu attacked the meal with gusto. After all, though she would rather that Ichika spend some time not looking after her, which she could do perfectly well on her own, he was still quite the cook. Ichika walked back into the room, a short, green haired young woman trailing after him.

"Mmm, that smells good. Did you make this, Ichika?" the woman asked.

Ichika smiled. "Yes, of course I did. I mean, you've eaten Chifuyu-onee-sama's food before. What about that makes you think she can cook? Ouch!" He brought both arms up and held his head in pain, even as Chifuyu placed the spoon she had just hit him with back on the table. "Onee-chan!"

Maya just shook her head in amusement. "Come on now, Ichika. You should know by now, teasing your sister is a very good way to get hurt. I know that well enough."

"You're right," Ichika said. "But it's just so much fun to do!"

Maya chuckled. "Well, in that regard, I must agree."

"Enough talking, Maya," Chifuyu said, unamused with their banter. "Hurry up and eat before it gets cold."

"Yes, Chifuyu-sama," Maya said, sitting down in a chair, and digging into her omelet. After all, she had no desire to either waste the delicious food, nor to be hit by her boss. Both of which would happen if she continued to tease Chifuyu.

The rest of the meal was had in silence, as both of the two women ate quickly, while Ichika stuck his head in a book and poured over the pages. Once all of them had finished their meals, Ichika began cleaning up the plates.

"I'm leaving, Ichika," Chifuyu called out from the door. Ichika nodded and smiled at her. Just as she was about to leave, Maya trailing after her, Ichika called out.

"Wait, you forgot something, Onee-sama!" He picked up a pair of lunch boxes from where they had been sitting on the kitchen counter. "Here, Onee-sama. Have a good day at work!"

Chifuyu smiled at the boy, and ruffled his hair lovingly. "You're a good brother, Ichika," she said. With one last glance over her shoulder, she turned and left the good sized house they called home.

"He's a good boy," Maya said, even as she trailed after Chifuyu. "Smart as well. Too bad he can't use his full potential all the time." Chifuyu gave her a pained smile.

"Yes." She sighed. "Yes it is."

Ichika reached up to his neck and pressed the button that was attached to the choker there. There was a beeping sound, and a robotic voice buzzed to life.

"User acknowledged, shutting down system boosters. Basic support only." it said. Ichika reached over and grabbed a cane from where it sat next to the kitchen counter and leaned on it. His leg spasmed, and he almost collapsed onto the floor, only just managing to keep his balance. His world swam with colours, before becoming unfocused. Lines blurred, colours mixed together, and everything became harder to focus on. His breathing became shallow, and his arms felt heavy. But that was expected. He limped his way over to the living room couch, and collapsed into it, closing his eyes and falling into a deep sleep.

" _Oh, little Ikkun, what to do with you?"_ Ichika blinked. A purple haired woman was standing over him with a syringe. His face twisted into a grimace of displeasure. This memory again. He hated this memory. He was floating in a hospital room staring down at his younger self. His body, the real one, not the dream one, was wrapped with bandages. " _Are you awake yet, Ikkun? Oh, good, you are!" the purple haired woman smiled at him._ It was not a pained smile. Not an unfeeling smile. Not a sarcastic smile. The woman really was pleased to see him. And that made him hate her all the more. "Tabane," Ichika muttered under his breath, even though he knew she could neither see nor hear him. This was a memory, after all. _Tabane bent over the body which lay spread out on the operating table, clothed in bandages and gauze. Her syringe descended, and speared into the child's chest. The child writhed around on the table for a few seconds, before lying still. Tabane smiled. "Tell me, Ikkun, do you know what happened to you?" The child blinked his eyes slowly._

" _Who are you?" he asked, haltingly. The woman frowned._

" _Hmm. It appears that the operation and the drug were a success, but there was some damage to your psyche. Tell me, do you remember what happened to you?"_

 _The boy closed his eyes in concentration, before they shot open in fear, in disgust, in terror. "I… I killed people! Took a gun, and I shot them! I don't even know how to use a gun, so how? What… I remember the pain. I remember wanting it to stop. I remember…" Tears began to well up in the boy's eye. Tabane smiled at him._

" _Well, at least the memory loss is minor. You don't seem to remember me, but at least you have some memories. I wonder what else you've forgotten. Do you remember my sister, Houki?" The child looked at her uncomprehendingly, even as tears began to run down his face. "How about Rin? School? The IS? Your parents? Madoka?" The boy simply stared at her blankly. "What about your sister, Chifuyu?" Tabane asked. Recognition lit up in the boy's eyes._

" _Chi… fuyu… nee… san?" he asked, slowly, as if it took him great effort to do so. Tabane smiled again._

" _Well, at least you remember something. That's good. If you didn't remember at least her, I would have had to kill you, then make Chi-chan think you had just died! And that would have been a pain. Removing memories always is. Brain surgery. Tricky thing."_

" _Where is… Chifuyu?" The boy asked, more clearly. Tabane smiled at the boy and motioned towards a tall black haired woman who was slumped in one corner of the room. Her clothes were disheveled, and her hair fell in a messy mass across her face. Tabane stepped over to the woman and smiled down at her._

" _Wakey, wakey, Chifuyu." Tabane brought her foot back and slammed it into the woman's stomach, hard. The woman slid a few meters along the floor and groaned in pain. She pushed herself slowly to her hands and knees, blinking slowly._

" _What… what the hell did you do, Tabane?" The woman tried to stand, but only managed to fall back to her knees with a grunt. Tabane smiled at her._

" _Well, see, I had to do a few things, and I didn't really want you conscious for it. No hard feelings, Chi-chan?"_

 _Chifuyu growled at her. "You didn't have to drug me though."_

 _Tabane shrugged. "Well, whatever. I wanted to test a new drug, and you just happened to be on hand. And it's not like I have a large supply of human test subjects to use. Actually, considering that my sister doesn't trust me anymore, I'm pretty much out of people. Luckily, for the next ten years, I own you. So now I have my very own test slave! Isn't that nice."_

" _Isn't ten a bit long?"_

 _Tabane tilted her head. "Make if fifteen. Argue with me again, and I'll just let Ichika die."_

" _He's alive?" Chifuyu tried to climb to her feet again._

" _Really now," Tabane shook her head. "Do you have no faith in me? Yes, he'll live. Of course, you'll need a doctor to patch him up a bit, but whatever."_

 _Chifuyu grabbed onto the medical table and began to pull herself to her feet. "So he's all right?"_

Tabane grimaced slightly. It was almost unnoticeable, and at the time neither Ichika nor Chifuyu noticed. Of course, now, five years later, Ichika saw it clearly _. "Well, I wouldn't quite say that. He's alive, but I'm a miracle worker. Not a neurologist. Here, you want to talk to him?" She reached down and grabbed Chifuyu, pulling her to her feet and tossing her into a nearby chair._

" _Ichika?" She reached out towards the boy lying on the table._

" _Chifuyu-onee-sama? What happened? Why, why can't I move? Why does everything look so weird?" The boy began to shake, and Tabane reached over._

" _Shush little Ikkun. You have to heal more. This will help," Tabane whispered, raising a syringe into the air, and plunging it into the boy's chest. He gave a single gasp, before falling silent._ From where he was floating, Ichika frowned even more. He wished he knew what happened after that. But his dreams, while mostly lucid, were only ever of things he had seen. And that was quite annoying. Ichika felt a tugging sensation, and closed his eyes, letting his conscious disappear into nothingness.

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Hey guys. New chapter! Woo! I actually updated! In all seriousness, thanks for the support so far. And hey, can you tell me if the dream sequence here works well? If not, I'll revise it and re-update. Oh, and does anyone like the cover image? I spent a whole half an hour on it.

Also, can you go and read my Bleach fanfiction? Just a little Ichigo and Rukia fluff. Heck, you don't even need to know what Bleach is. Short, sweet, and a one-shot. Please?


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